Free Baker Towers by Jennifer Haigh

wear that one, if it’s all right with you. Instead she slipped into a dress of her own, a plain green one she’d brought from home. She waited as Patsy arranged her hair and dabbed perfume at her wrists.
    Outside it had begun to rain. They stood on the front step, tying scarves over their hair. A gray Plymouth slowed at the curb, flashing its lights. The driver rolled down the window. It was Chick Rowsey.
    “Hey, dreamgirls!” He wore a white shirt and a tie.
    Dorothy felt flushed, agitated. She remembered the long years of high school, a hundred Friday nights reading magazines, listening to the radio, waiting for something to happen, for her life to begin. Why now? she wanted to say. What took you so long?
    “Hey, yourself,” said Patsy. “What are you doing here?”
    “Looking for you girls.” He nodded toward Dorothy. “How’s the swimmer?”
    “Where did you disappear to?” said Patsy.
    “Baltimore. I had to see a doctor up there.”
    “We must have missed your phone calls.”
    “I’m here now, aren’t I?” He stepped out of the car. “I was hoping you’d be home. I just got my check from Uncle Sam, and I wanted to take you girls out for a steak dinner.” He smiled broadly. “Where are you off to?”
    “None of your business,” said Patsy.
    “Come on. Don’t be like that.”
    Dorothy glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, Chick, but we really should be going.”
    “Where to? I can give you a lift.”
    She glanced at the sky, heavy with dark clouds. She felt her hair wilting under the thin scarf. “Union Station. My brother’s coming in on the six-thirty. I’m afraid we’ll miss him.”
    “Well, hop in, then.” He opened the passenger door with his good hand. Patsy, sulking, stepped inside. Dorothy followed him around to the driver’s side and got into the backseat.
    “This is so nice of you,” Patsy said as he pulled away from the curb. “We’d never have gotten a taxi in this weather.”
    “It’s my cousin’s car. I borrowed it special to take you out.” Rowsey glanced over his shoulder at Dorothy. “I’m sorry about dropping off the face of the earth. I want to make it up to you.”
    Dorothy hesitated. “My brother ships out in the morning. We have plans for tonight.”
    “Just my luck.” He pulled in front of the station. “At least let me wait for you. I’ll drive the three of you back to the boardinghouse. I can’t let a GI walk across town in the rain.”
    At the station Rowsey went in search of parking. The girls stared up at the electrified sign that announced arrivals and departures. “We’relate,” said Dorothy, her voice quavering. “We missed him. Now what will we do?”
    “There he is!” said Patsy.
    Dorothy turned. A man in uniform stood on the platform. She had looked directly at him, but hadn’t recognized him.
    “Georgie!” she called, her heart quickening. “Over here!”
    He loped toward them, a knapsack over his shoulder. “Hiya, kid,” he said, clasping her briefly. Except for the day he’d left for boot camp, he had never embraced her before. He was taller than she remembered, bigger through the shoulders. His dark hair had thinned at the temples; his face looked long and thin. He reminded her of their father.
    “I can’t believe it’s you,” she whispered.
    He let go first.
    “Who’s this?” he asked, grinning.
    “Patsy Sturgis.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “I recognized you right away.”
    “How’s that?”
    “I wake up every morning looking at you.” She giggled at his expression. “Dottie keeps a photo of you on the bureau.”
    “Patsy’s my roommate,” Dorothy explained.
    “No kidding.” His eyes rested on her a moment.
    “Hey!” Rowsey called from across the platform.
    Patsy ignored him. “How was your train ride, George?”
    “No complaints.” He glanced at Rowsey, who was hurrying toward them. “That guy a friend of yours?”
    “That’s Chick Rowsey. He drove us here.”
    “Are you hungry?”